Enkryption

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

@PaulHaynek & @The Irish Tree

Forgot to ping, again. It's been an exhausting work week... for the last two weeks...

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

Annalise was not comfortable with the situation she found herself thrust into; face to face with this intrusive figure. A dweller of deep dungeons, she'd little awareness of all surface-bound creatures, yet she could gleam similarities between her assistant (or partner, as he'd timidly insisted) and the one before them – primarily, that they shared a lineage as a species. Beyond that, however, her inspection ceased, as they woman grew close enough to set her predator sense on, and Annalise laid a hand upon her rapier-lance. Lowering her head in threat, she stepped forward, beyond Magnus, and into range to strike without risk of retreat. Keeping her draw discipline, Annalise took over, “Who are you to question such things. There is no cause for your questions to be answered, until you answer ours. To tell you information you’ve no privy to is to allow chaos. So, you answer first.”

Annalise centered herself. Magnus's species was volatile, when challenged.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Marshall shook his right arm, and flexed his fingers. 'That's what the bandages are for, you walking, candle flame.’ he shot back. ‘In any case, friends, Karma and I shall never be. I'm a Thief, after all. Karma's always on the side of good.’ he looked up, 'Your side, last I checked. So, for the sake of my own personal victory, I can blame you.’ Marshall sighed, and then, tapped his head with her right hand. ‘Additionally, I feel I have to correct you, since, I’ll always have you. After all, you cast such a wonderfully hypocritical shadow for me to survive in.’ he returned her smugness with a broad grin of his own, and had another retort readied, before he was taken off guard, and sent to hand and knee.

There was a soft sheathing of knife in ground, as he root himself in placed with Selmia's Dagger, and angled his right hand to shoot a bullet through himself. If it weren't for the fact he'd remembered the exact weight and density of Amanita's blood, he would have shoot through himself, and through her; taken aback, as he was. Fortunately, he was aware of this, and the the almost ethereally dainty arms that surrounded him. ‘Is this truly a child? Have I been dealt two Jokers in one hand?’ Marshall asks, 'or, have I been so bereft of human contact, I've forgotten what a child truly is?’

Neither answer would please the ancient thief, of course, but, he drew himself, and thoughts, to the present, as Amanita slipped off him. “I don't drink blood,” Marshall says. “Not in any traditional sense, anyways. I am well adjusted to cooked meals, as any man, even if I am without need of them,” he says, looking at her, as she told him to follow her, and thanked him, “I told you... Hm, never mind.” Marshall sided the scolding for another day; perhaps. At this moment, her demeanor and posture were all too fragile, and her offer bespoke of lodgings; a bath, meal, and bed -- all warm.

So, he followed her in silence; determined to entertain neither his own curiosities nor those of his Benefactor. Surely, someone as engrossed in the corruption of light would have less than savory opinion; perverse assumptions to make, and use as taunt and sword against his personage, until she bored of it. His own thoughts conflicted, as well. He treated life as a black and white scenario; everything, everyone, all broken into a simple outcome of 1s and 0s -- “You make frighteningly binary decisions,” someone told him, long gone. And, he agreed, as it kept his mind from wandering, as it sought to do.

His mind had myriads of avenues to walk; simple questions and complex questions. What was Mucu? Was he a threat? He, if Marshall had to apply gender, was clearly smarter than another mushroom off the floor. He could withstand a fair degree of damage, and dish it out, as well. Yet, he seemed easy to placate. Then, there was Rumaya. Why? Why had she been dealt into his life; renew, his Amaya? His first and only victim. He didn't believe in victims, as they were too easy to intertwine with emotion, and sew doubt into his cause, or rashness into his form.

And yet, her she was, a perfect reflection down to the scar. A birthmark, now; if the simple offset of pigmentation was to be believed. Had his mere caress, a great 1,904 years ago, been enough to pervert her very blood, and force Amaya's descendants to bare an echo of his greatest mistake? It was so much to think on, but, insurmountable in comparison to the child that led him across the field encircling the ruined forest. Was she a child? Or, was she another Harvin, playing at being a child for some game or reason? Or, was she of the Nymphs, determined to be seen as more than a Spectre of Beauty?

No matter the answers, he knew they would all fail to please, and bring only more aching. Amanita had presented herself as a savior, and yet, truly, she was but a curse that brought damnation... one that stirred up what he'd buried beneath a protective seal of compassionless bluntness, controlled insanity, and bestial ferocity:

Genuine Affection.

By the Primals above and Astral before them, this just wasn't Marshall's day...

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

i s2g tree reads over these before I post them

I ain't just letting Cyll get away with absolute metaphorical murder here

@Ammokkx

LOL! Not just me, then? I don't feel so lonely on my island, anymore.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

I ceased faffing and posted. #Accomplishments

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Exhausted of the foreign blood that had fueled its divinely sadistic bloodlust since Ziggurat, the Touch of Virtue tightened against the arm of its keeper, and millions upon millions of needles punched into every single skin cell; feasting with an almost living hunger, despite its automaton nature. Supping heartily, the evening gown glove sudden bulked up; becoming angular and sharp, a shadow of its own elegance nature. In bursts of progress, it bulked up from fingertip to shoulder blade, spreading over the shoulder, and wrapping halfway around his neck, as a section attempted to connect with nonexistence piece on Marshall’s chest.

‘Heh. Already at my limit, eh? Such a cruel mistress I’m incarcerated to.’ Marshall thoughts, trying to gauge the blood lost, as his senses floated. ‘Are you awake, you old hag?’ Marshall stepped forward, flexing his clawed fingertips, before balling a fist. ‘It only hurts when you are, therefore: you must be. Have you done this?’ he asked, displeased, ‘Arranged this? Surely, Fate is not so cruel as to put Amaya back into my life after so long?’ Marshall stood over the twitching form of the paralyzed hornet, and trust his finger into its core like a knife blade.

“It’s so impure...” Marshall says, as the creature stilled, and withered to a point from the complete removal of its blood. Tilting his head, Marshall looked back to Amanita, his eyes cast into an unnatural shadow, and tossed the hornet at the trio’s feet. “I drained it of all its impure insect blood,” he says, answering an unspoken question. “Did you know that insects have blood? It’s not like ours, pure,” Marshall says, before he sudden took a large step, and drove his fist into other, “It’s a mixture of things that could be called ‘blood’ for no better reason that operational similarities, but it’s missing a very vital thing...”

Marshall’s blood vessels were pulsing against his visible, pallid skin; devoid of the normalcy that was blue, unoxygenated blood, and replaced by a green, sickened color. “Hemoglobin,” he says, flinging the corpse aside like a discarded toy. “Hemolymph,” Marshall states, “that’s what insects have. It’s not perfect; impure and crude...” he flexed his fingers and claws, “...but, it’s still serviceable blood to this accursed armor of mine.” All too suddenly, Marshall rushed forward, ramming the Touch of Virtue through stunned hornet, like a shish kabob, and drained them at the same time.

“Amanita~...” Marshall singsonged, looking back to her -- his right cheek was dusted in chitinous scale -- as he flung the corpses before her, “I told you to leave, didn't I? You don’t wanna contest a Primal Beast, do you?”

Mucu could tell, much faster than Amanita, as he met Marshall’s inhuman gaze that he was, at the current moment, more Primal Beast than one might suspect -- not just because of his partial insect-ification, and the magic that was warping him. No, it wasn't surface, anymore, but ran to bone; a bestial amalgamation of Light and Dark, forcefully unified with Blood as the medium. Even if Amanita had ordered him to stay, instincts told him to take the youth and young woman away.

It wasn't safe with what felt like a Fledgeling Primal Beast waking up.

And, those instincts weren’t wrong, as Marshall turned his attention back to the incoming swarm, and, without a moment of flair, as he’d done with Selmia, unleashed a whirlwind stream of blood against the hornets that swallowed them whole in gale-force winds of blood; giving force and edge by their own Wind Ether, externalized, and turned as weapon against them by the Touch of Virtue. Swept away, they fell to the terra in messy, bloody chunks, alongside the forest in a path as wide as a house, and as far reaching as one could see.

Teeth grit, Marshall panted via heavy breaths through his nose, as he bit his tongue, and forced the pain to will his sanity back from the edge of no return. Exhausted, once again, the Touch of Virtue deflated in a sense, and returned to its pitch-black, yet elegant evening gown state of being; harboring just enough of the hornet’s blood that was circulating in Marshall’s own to sup, and sate its hunger... for now.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Nobody's waiting on me, but, I'mma get my post up today. Last week was a shitty hell at work, and I've been really hesistant on my post, in general. But, neh, lemme stop faffing aboot,... after work, of course.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Marshall chuckled, as Amanita primped her achievements. “Are you now,” he asks. “At your age and tininess,” Marshall teased, both her and her hair with his left hand, “Well, color me impressed, Amanita. A alchemist with medical talent is something impressive.” Marshall smirked, and then waved back to Mucu; acknowledging the mushroom man with a suspicious, albeit subtle, study of whatever he’d sensed from the creature.

However, once Amanita asked if he was a Primal Beast, he frowned a bit. “That's a very complex,” Marshall says. “I suppose, you could assume such,” he says, as she worriedly sprayed him with disinfectant and such, “For now, don't stress such a pretty head about it. I’ve not --” Marshall’s attention snapped to the shriek, as did Amanita's, and he saw the woman running... and nothing more.

Impossible.

How could he have live so long, so damn long, and yet, the impossibly could still stun him near to inaction? It had to be impossible, and yet, he knew that face, that scar -- 'No! It’s been 1,904 years!’ Marshall couldn't move, and then, suddenly, he was. He’d just enough blood to sweep a thin beam through the swarm; anything else, he’d have to take from himself. “Amaya!” he shouted, swinging his right hand, projecting a high pressure beam of blood that could feasibly slice through the hornets. “It can’t be... She can’t be.”

Denial couldn’t stop him from racing forward, straight toward his past; foolishly into the path of the hornets that lucked out of being slice cleanly through, and beat Mucu into playing at meat-shield. He didn't even notice the impacts, as he looked back. “Amaya!” he gasped, before a hornet caught him in the neck. Poison circulated through him, and he redirected into the Touch of Virtue to be ejected. “Insect! You won’t touch her!” he snarled, grabbing a stinger, and ripping it clean out of himself and the hornet.

“Mushroom Man, Doctor Child, get her out of here! I'll handle this...” Marshall says, as the Touch of Virtue ceased being a jet-black, elegant evening gown in design, and became a bulky, armored slab of metal. “I won’t lose you again, Amaya,” he swears, as the Touch of Virtue encapsulated his shoulder, “Never again.”

---

@The Irish Tree

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

Fudge, forgot to ping @PaulHaynek before posting in the IC. Er, post is up. It been a busy week at work, but, I finally got to post.

A Guild Adventure: An RP with Monster Girls! (ENDED)

Annalise had appeared in the Guild’s Main Hall... no longer adorned in the towering giant in armor of old and magic, but a sleek, form-fitting armor made of segmented, iron plates that covered her from top to bottom. Her head was covered in an helmet that hid all but her glowing, silver eyes, and was adorned in a pair of antennae; as if, she were a walking insect. At her side, she hand a short lance in a sheath, as if a rapier, and stood before the quest board. ‘Adventures...’ she thought, ‘So, this is how so many have come upon my old home? These pieces of paper tell them what to do, where to do it, and they just do it? How mindlessly savage...’

A finger beneath her armored chin, the Mimic Slime analyzed the papers from first to last, and settled on two. ‘Noble. I’ve eaten noble before. Such fine flavours. I would enjoy that, yes...’ Annalise licked her lips. ‘Oh, even the noble wood is so flavourful; treated with such skills. Oh, yes...’ If it were possible, Annalise would have been drooling, as she thought about the rich gear and materials. ‘I should do this one, but... a kidnapping... if I do that, I could earn some of that Standing I hear about...’

Annalise rubbed her chin. ‘A feast, now, or a feast, later...’ she asks herself, before looking up, and drawing her lance. “This one!” she announces, stabbing the lance into the kidnapping quest: Who Are You To Judge?. “I shall pursue this --” Annalise paused. ‘What do Adventurers call these!?’ she panicked, before remembering. “-- quest!”

Annalise grinned, unseen, ‘I remembered! Whoo!’